Chapter Twenty-Two: Say It Again

Vivian’s eyes darted slyly. “As for what happened after that, it involves our other roommate, Maclin, and some rather private reasons I’d rather not reveal. I think it would be best if he told you himself.”

“And where is he?” Carlos asked.

The half-orc Cook pursed his lips and pointed upstairs.

“I imagine Maclin is still asleep.”

Carlos was left speechless. After such a convoluted tale, now he was being told to wait for the next installment? He looked up at Vivian across from him. “Is it really necessary for the dwarf to tell it himself?”

Vivian shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, Carlos. This concerns Maclin’s reputation. We promised not to spread the story without his consent, or he’d be furious.”

Cook nodded in agreement. “He does get angry very easily.”

Carlos was a bit surprised. Dwarves were a large clan—after all, the overseer of the Stevenson family salt mines was a dwarf too, and aside from being a little eccentric, he seemed perfectly normal.

Carlos didn’t dwell on it. He’d already heard the main events, and the rest wasn’t essential. Rising to his feet, he gathered up his alchemy book, propping the hefty tome beneath his chin, and stifled a yawn.

“Well, I look forward to hearing the end of this interesting story someday, but for now I’m tired and need to get some rest.”

“Good night, Carlos.” Vivian, regretful but still warm, bade him farewell.

“Good night.”

Carlos was indeed tired, but there was one more thing he felt he should do. He returned to the storeroom that had been converted into a temporary bedroom, lit a candle, and took out pen and paper to jot down a rough account of the strange events he’d heard that day.

When the night had fully settled outside, Carlos pushed open the window and let out a low, owl-like whistle toward the mountain woods.

Moments later, a shadow climbed up and slipped in through the window.

“Carlos, you already need my help?” Dericht entered, a peculiar expression on his face.

“Brother, did you notice anything unusual in the northern woods today?” Carlos’s face lit up when Dericht appeared just as they’d arranged, and he asked in a low voice.

“No, everything seemed perfectly normal,” Dericht replied with a shake of his head.

Carlos thought for a moment, then recounted the strange behavior of his demon-hunting pocket watch from earlier in the day, and handed Dericht a letter he’d already written.

“There’s something else I think Father should know. I’ve written the details in this letter.”

Dericht met Carlos’s gaze and nodded gravely. He took the letter and, stooping low, was about to slip away when Carlos stopped him.

Then, a bit sheepishly, Carlos said, “If it’s convenient, could you bring me some jerky tomorrow? I’m not used to eating dry bread.”

Dericht blinked, then laughed softly and leapt down, vanishing into the night.

Carlos found himself rather enjoying the storeroom accommodations. Dubei was right—this room had originally been a bedroom before being converted, and at least it still had a private washroom.

He drew some water and took a quick wash. The sleepiness faded somewhat. He curled up with “A Primer on Alchemical Geometric Symbols,” reviewing the basic alchemical signs until he’d memorized most of them. By then, the moon had hidden behind the rooftop, a chorus of insects chirped from the woods outside, and he yawned, burrowing into the warm bedding. Sleep swept over him like a tide, submerging him completely.

Carlos had always been a night owl, so when he finally woke, bleary-eyed, the sun was already high.

So much had happened yesterday.

A good sleep was the best way to digest it all.

Stretching out of habit, Carlos dutifully climbed from his warm bed. He still needed to reinforce his memory of the symbols in “A Primer on Alchemical Geometric Symbols” and then begin studying geometric patterns. This was part of his plan.

Though Dubei had given him half a month to study the theory, Carlos intended to spend no more than five days on it. He believed that for the unknown, grasping the fundamentals was sufficient. True mastery only came through practice.

An alchemist surely wasn’t just about memorizing theory—otherwise, it would be no different from smelting. Carlos was ever more eager to understand the true secrets of alchemy, and he felt he was drawing closer to them.

The young Carlos was always brimming with curiosity.

Dubei finally emerged from the basement. The old man seemed to have a habit of locking himself in the alchemy chamber at night, appearing in the living room each morning. As for his sleeping schedule, Carlos suspected he probably dozed off while working, since he hadn’t even kept a bedroom for himself.

Carlos’s breakfast was milk and bread—not exactly a feast, especially for a boy still growing, who craved meat at every meal. When he reached into the cupboard for bread, he noticed—quite shrewdly—that what had been packed with dry bread yesterday now held only a single layer.

Eating, Carlos circled behind Dubei, who was sitting on the sofa reading a newspaper. Seeing that it was an old edition from some days past, Carlos pouted and returned to the table. It seemed that, in this remote town, a current newspaper was impossible to come by—even an alchemist couldn’t conjure one from thin air.

After eating, Carlos resumed reading “A Primer on Alchemical Geometric Symbols.”

Teacher and student sat across from each other, neither disturbing the other. As for academic discussion, Carlos felt that, though the symbols and patterns seemed obscure at first, once he followed their logic and found the underlying rules, they weren’t all that difficult. It was just that A, B, C, D were replaced by odd shapes like knives, forks, circles, and axes. When these strange shapes formed even stranger geometric patterns, it took more mental effort to grasp.

But for now, Carlos only found it complex and tedious, not truly difficult, so he quietly took notes and committed the material to memory, without asking Dubei a single question.

The old man, on the other hand, seemed rather surprised by Carlos’s approach. After sitting with studied dignity for a while, and noticing that Carlos was completely absorbed in note-taking and recitation, he could no longer suppress his curiosity. He made several feigned, thoughtful circuits behind Carlos, sneaking glances at his notebook from the corner of his eye.

At one point, he stood behind Carlos for a good quarter of an hour.

Carlos rolled his eyes and turned. “Teacher, is there something you need?”

Only then did Dubei reluctantly tear his gaze from the notebook, clearing his throat awkwardly but with a face full of wonder and excitement as he walked away.

This repeated itself several times.

Carlos, feeling his studies were being continually interrupted, finally put down his pen and seized the chance to ask about other things.

“Teacher, what’s the situation with the people upstairs?”

Dubei hadn’t quite recovered himself. Seeing Carlos stop writing, he gave him a conspiratorial look and waggled his eyebrows. “Young man, your alchemy notes seem rather interesting.”

“Teacher, this is the chart-noting method. You start by identifying the main categories covered, then draw vertical columns and fill in the corresponding information. Would you like to learn it?”

Carlos was quite proud in his explanation. The biggest advantage of this chart note-taking method was its clarity and the ease with which one could find connections in the material.

Dubei waved him off. “No need for that. I have all the knowledge of alchemy at my fingertips—what use do I have for notes?”

“Of course, Teacher. But you haven’t answered my question from before.”

Dubei stared at Carlos, silent for a moment, then, looking embarrassed, said, “Remind me what you just asked.”

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